Crossroads
by hebeleos
Summary: Takes place in Hermione, Ron, and Harry's 7th year. Voldemort is slowly gaining power, but in the quiet academia of Hogwarts, the dark threat seems distant and remote. However, change will come, and decisions will need to be made.
1. Chapter 1

****

Crossroads (1/?)   
**Author:** Hebeleos  
**Author's email:** sigmapibond@yahoo.com   
**Category:** action/adventure, drama **  
Keywords:** Hermione Harry Potter Draco Malfoy dragons Veritserum Voldemort   
**Rating:** PG-13 (for language, probably)   
**Spoilers:** just to be safe, all four books   
**Description:** Takes place in Hermione, Ron, and Harry's 7th year. Voldemort is slowly gaining power, but in the quiet academia of Hogwarts, the dark threat seems distant and remote. However, change will come, and decisions will need to be made.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

**

**CHAPTER 1**

**

It was late. Her dorm mates were long asleep; the last irritated grumble to turn off the lights had been hours ago. A light snore came from across the room—from Parvati's bed, it seemed.

Hermione sighed. She had spent the last four hours studying for the first Potions exam of the term. Although she had always achieved top marks in the class, she was never the best ("Bloody Malfoy favoritism," she muttered bitterly), and her papers occasionally did have mistakes.

Both those situations would need to be remedied if she stood a chance of getting a recommendation from Professor Snape at the end of the term. She was applying to the Greenlaw College of Magics in March, and five recommendations were needed. Two were left up to her discretion. But the Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration recs were mandatory, and while the last two would be a snap, Snape was a problem. No, Snape was more than a problem; he was a Bloody Barricade of Impossibility.

So here she was, reading her Potions book for the fourth time in so many hours, hoping against hope that somehow she'd knock his socks off tomorrow and every day thereafter for the remainder of their time together. 

Hermione yawned. If she moved from the comfort of her bed and down to the common room she could probably get in another hour before she fell completely asleep. But after that incident with Seamus, Lavender, and the common room sofa last Thursday, she much preferred the sanctuary of the communal girls' dormitory. Her randy classmates were just self-conscious enough to avoid pure exhibitionism in the dormitories, but enough hormones were coursing through their blood to make shagging at unlikely hours in the fragile privacy of the common room seem like a good idea. Hermione snorted softly, and then snickered. The look on Lavender's face had been priceless. 

She yawned again. It was past midnight now—two hours past, in fact—and she needed to be awake for the exam tomorrow.

Hermione carefully closed her Potions text and placed it on the table beside her bed. Whispering "extinguisho" at the candle, she closed her eyes and let the darkness wash over her.

**

Harry looks like hell today, Hermione thought the next morning at breakfast. His hair was a mess—a bigger mess than usual, she corrected herself—and dark circles stood out against the startling paleness of his face. 

"Hey, Harry," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "Ready for the Potions exam?"

"Err, yeah. I mean, no, not really," he mumbled.

"You seem a little confused," she observed. "You must've stayed up studying really late last night. You've got circles all under your eyes."

Ron shot her an indecipherable look.

"What?" she asked.

"Uh, nothing important," Harry said quickly. 

"Right," she replied. Turning back to Ron, she repeated, "What?"

"Never mind," he said. At her look, he added, "You really don't want to know."

"I'm getting really curious now," Hermione remarked. "You're going to tell me sooner or later, you realize that, right?"

"Ron!" Harry hissed in a failed attempt at subtlety.

"She'll just find out anyway, Harry," Ron replied. He considered Hermione for a moment then picked up a piece of toast. "See, it's like this. We were out in the Invisibility Cloak last night, and we happened across Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson snogging in Astronomy Tower."

"Oh." Then her eyes narrowed. "And ... ?"

"That's all." Ron went back to applying liberal amounts of jam on his toast.

"Right, so Harry's secretly lusting after Pansy, is that it? Or does he have the hots for ferret-boy? Which one of them is it?"

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. "Eeaaugh!"

"Where'd you get that idea?" Ron demanded.

"Well," she replied, swirling her spoon in her oatmeal, her favorite breakfast food. "The only reason I can think of for Harry to lose sleep over Malfoy and Parkinson is if he is secretly jealous, which of course implies that he is secretly in love. So spit it out, Harry. Which one of 'em is it?"

"Me? In love with Pansy? That's disgusting!"

"Right, so tell me the truth now."

"You're too smart for your own good, you know that?" Ron said disgustedly.

"There is no such thing as too smart, Ron Weasley. However, there is such thing as not smart enough ... " Hermione let the sentence trail, and looked pointedly at Ron.

"Hermione!"

"I'm waiting."

"You're ruthless."

"Still waiting."

Harry sighed. "Fine, fine, okay." He looked around the table. Everyone else seemed otherwise occupied with breakfast consumption, and no one was paying the three of them much attention. "So we really were up in Astronomy Tower, and we really did see Malfoy and Pansy. But then we looked out the window and saw a house elf running toward the Forbidden Forest so we followed it ..."

"A house elf?" Hermione interjected. "Is that the reason you didn't want to tell me? You thought I'd blow up because you saw a house elf?"

"Oh, it gets worse. Trust me." 

"Fine. Go on." Hermione leaned back in her chair. Her oatmeal had gone cold. Damn these boys.

"So we ran outside, and followed the elf to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and suddenly we stopped, since the elf was talking to a person in a Death Eater's robe, so we ran back to the castle to Dumbledore's office ..."

"Wait, wait, you saw a Death Eater!? A DEATH EATER!?!"

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "It gets even worse."

"What could be worse than a Death Eater in the Forbidden Forest? What did Dumbledore say? What did Dumbledore do?!?"

"I'm getting to it," Harry replied. "So we ran to Dumbledore's office ..."

"Only get this," Ron interrupted. "We couldn't get in because we didn't know the password. So while we out standing outside the door, yelling every possible password we could think of, _Snape_ comes along, glaring at us ..."

"Nothing unusual there," Hermione murmured.

"He had this big goblet of vile-smelling potion with him," Ron went on, "and he muttered something at the gargoyle and went right in."

"Only not before confiscating my dad's Invisibility Cloak," Harry burst out.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "And he also took 20 points each from Gryffindor, and told us both to go back to the dorm."

"I presume you told him about the Death Eater?" Hermione asked. 

"Tell Snape! That slimy bastard! As if!" Ron looked appalled.

"Ron! He's a teacher!" Hermione jumped out of her chair, earning her a few curious looks from the rest of the Gryffindor table. "I can't believe you didn't tell him. We could all have been killed in our beds! What kind of irresponsible, reckless ..."

"Just kidding. We did tell him." Ron grinned at her impudently. "Ha, got you back."

Hermione sat down abruptly. "Ooh, Ronald Weasley, I'll get you for that. That's a promise."

"Quiet," Harry shushed them. He glanced around the table. Seamus and Dean were sneaking them curious glances.

"Fine," Hermione lowered her voice. "So what did Snape say? Did he get you in to see Dumbledore?"

"No, all he did was sneer at us and tell us to mind our own business. Then he went inside, and the door shut behind him."

"Snape! That's really odd. And disturbing, actually. So what'd you do then?"

"Well, we headed back to the dorm. Only ..." Harry and Ron traded anxious glances.

"Only?" she prompted them.

"We ran into that same house elf on our way back."

"How'd you know it was the same elf? And you really shouldn't say 'house elf', Harry. You make it seem like their own function is to serve humans."

"Oh, _sorry_. Well, we ran into the same _elf_ on our way back. We recognized her. She ..."

"She?"

"Yes. Hermione ..." Harry paused. "It was Winky."

"Winky!" she exclaimed. "What would Winky be doing, corsorting with Death Eaters? Are you sure it was her?"

"Uh, yes." Harry and Ron traded an even more uncomfortable glance. "She was carrying a Death Eater's robe."

"Ohhhh."

"So we're going back to talk to Dumbledore today. Right after breakfast, actually."

Hermione looked up and scanned the head table. "Why don't you go talk to him now? You'll never get Snape to let you out of Potions, and we have that first today."

"With Snape just sitting there?" Harry and Ron looked at her disbelievingly.

"He can't do anything if you just go up and blurt it out, can he?" she replied, exasperated. Then she considered. "But maybe it's not such a good idea. Professor Snape probably had a good reason for not being alarmed. It's probably a private matter, and we shouldn't be yelling it in the Great Hall in front of everyone."

"Hermione," Ron said, slowly. "Are you telling us that we should trust Snape? That Snape actually knew what he was doing? This is the same Snape who wouldn't believe us about the Philosopher's Stone, remember, back in first year?"

"Of course I remember," she retorted. "But I doubt even Snape'd play around when it comes to Death Eaters and the safety of the school. He is a teacher, after all, and Dumbledore trusts him."

"Boy, are you naïve. This is Snape, Hermione!" 

"Oh, would you get off it ..." Hermione didn't get to finish her sentence, as at that moment the flurry of wings above them announced the arrival of the mail owls. Hedwig swooped in and dropped parcel wrapped in brown paper in Harry's lap.

"Thanks, Hedwig," he said.

She hooted at him and flew away. "I wonder what this could be," Harry mused. He quickly tore open the package, and an ethereal, diaphanous material slid into his lap. "My Invisibility Cloak!"

"Why would Snape return it?" Ron asked, perplexed.

Hermione, however, had noticed a thin fluttering around Harry's feet, and she quickly bent to pick up the small piece of parchment that had fallen from the package. "I don't think it was just Snape," she said after scanning it once.

"What do you mean?"

"Here," and she held out the note for the two boys to see.

__

Harry,

I have convinced Professor Snape to return your Invisibility Cloak. However, you ought to know that the term 'forbidden' does, in fact, mean 'forbidden.' Please limit your escapades to the castle from now on.

Good luck this term.

Yours,

Albus Dumbledore

Well," Ron said, flopping back in his chair. "What do you make of that?" 

Hermione was silent for a moment. This probably wasn't the best moment to yell at them some more for not just telling her to begin with. And it made no sense—just because Winky was involved didn't mean that Hermione couldn't think objectively. Unless there was something else they were't telling her ...

"Are you two sure there's nothing else?" she fixed them both with a hard stare.

"No!" Harry said quickly. "No, honest," he repeated. He shrugged. "We were just afraid that you'd yell at us for jumping to conclusions again. About Winky."

"Jumping to conclusions? Ohh, you mean like in 4th year, when neither of you could see the truth behind Barty Crouch?"

Both boys squirmed a little. "Yeah. But really, Hermione, she's definitely up to something this time. As soon as she saw us, she squeaked and ran down a side hall. And I really can't think of a reason why she'd have a Death Eater's robe," Harry said earnestly.

Hermione could think of one reason. One good reason. Making a small affirmative noise, she glanced back up at the head table. This time, however, her eyes didn't seek out an aged wizard with a long white beard, but the greasy-haired Potions Master, the one with the Dark Mark branded on his arm.   
  
**   
  
**Author's note:** Greenlaw is from Caroline Stevermer's terrific book, _A College of Magics_. The idea of teacher recommendations is from _A Higher Price_ by Clare and Anne. I've read so many HP fanfics that I may have borrowed unconsciously from another story; if you spot anything, please email me and I'll correct it immediately.   
  
Please comment/review! I'm not a very experienced writer, and I would appreciate all feedback. My email address is sigmapibond@yahoo.com. Thank you for reading!

  



	2. Chapter 2

****

Crossroads (2/?)   
**Author:** Hebeleos  
**Author's email:** sigmapibond@yahoo.com   
**Category:** action/adventure, drama **  
Keywords:** Hermione Harry Potter Draco Malfoy dragons Veritserum Voldemort   
**Rating:** PG-13 (for language, probably)   
**Spoilers:** just to be safe, all four books   
**Description:** Takes place in Hermione, Ron, and Harry's 7th year. Voldemort is slowly gaining power, but in the quiet academia of Hogwarts, the dark threat seems distant and remote. However, change will come, and decisions will need to be made.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

**

**CHAPTER 2**

**

Snape felt a pair of inquisitive eyes on him and turned to find Hermione Granger, School Braniac, staring at him from the Gryffindor table. What does she want, he thought irritably, scowling at her.

She flinched a little, but he was surprised to see curiosity? guilt? _something_ in her eyes besides disgust or hatred.

He raised an eyebrow.

She bit her lip and looked away.

Shrugging, Snape went back to needling Sprout about the sorry state of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

**

"Look, you two," Hermione said, turning away from her contemplation of Snape. "I think we should listen to Dumbledore. There's probably nothing to this."

"Hermione, you just got through telling us how irresponsible and reckless we were in _not _telling about the Death Eater," Ron protested. "Now you say it's nothing?"

"No kidding," Harry agreed. He turned to her suspiciously. "You were just as upset a minute ago about this. What's suddenly changed your mind?"

"You two just want an excuse to suspect Snape. Admit it," Hermione replied, tartly. "But ... look, it was him out there."

She paused, and then sighed at their blank faces. "It was Snape," she repeated. "In the Forest."

"_Snape_?" Ron exclaimed.

Harry looked thoughtful. "Snape," he said slowly, lingering on the sound as if it were an unfamiliar name, heard for the first time. "Yes, I suppose that's possible. Snape's been playing the double agent, hasn't he? He's a ... a spy, for Dumbledore."

"What makes you think that?"

"Look," Hermione said to the unconvinced Ron, "Remember what Dumbledore said at the end of 4th year? While Harry was in the hospital wing?"

"He asked Snape to do something," Ron answered. "But that doesn't mean he's a spy!"

"No, it doesn't. Not by itself. But just think about it. Snape is a former Death Eater; you saw the Dark Mark on his arm! But he's obviously no longer a Death Eater, and yet Voldemort hasn't come after him yet, as he definitely would have if he knew Snape had betrayed him. I know Hogwarts is supposed to be safe, but remember when Sirius escaped, back in 3rd year? This place was _teeming_ with dementors, to prevent any Dark attacks. I don't see any tall hooded things creeping around here now, or even any extra precautions, since I doubt Cornelius Fudge would spare Dumbledore any dementors, even if Dumbledore _wanted_ those nasty things around." Hermione was speaking very quickly, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement, as if she was explaining the solution to a very difficult puzzle. "So the logical conclusion is that You Know Wh—I mean, Voldemort, doesn't _know_ that Snape's working for us. Combine that with the mysterious errand Dumbledore asked of Snape ..."

"It adds up," Harry said. He turned to look at the Head Table again. "I suppose Snape had been out to a Death Eater meeting, or whatever, last night. He was just going to report to Dumbledore when we got there, and that explains Dumbledore's note." He twitched the paper in his fingers. "He didn't want us asking questions about Snape, or raising a commotion over a Death Eater in the Forbidden Forest, not when Snape's secretly playing double agent." Harry paused, then mused reflectively, "Snape's cover has got to be pretty thin as it is, with all the students and faculty around. I can hardly believe he's kept it a secret this whole time."

"Wait, wait. Double agent?"

Hermione turned to Ron, impatiently. "Oh, Ron, use your head! If You Know—that is, Voldemort, doesn't know that Snape's here to spy _for_ Dumbledore, then he must think Snape's here to spy _on_ Dumbledore. Why else would there be a Death Eater in Hogwarts? Of course Snape is a double agent!"

"But what about the potion? You know, the one that he brought to Dumbledore's office?" Ron asked, stubbornly. "It was still steaming from the cauldron! You know how you have to always watch a potion while it's stewing. So how could Snape have possibly been the Death Eater when he was supposed to be potioning?"

__

Potioning? Hermione flipped through her mental dictionary and ascertained that the noun "potion" did not double as a verb. She quirked an amused eyebrow.

Harry looked thoughtful. "Hmm, good point ..."

"So you see how it _couldn't_ have been Snape!" Ron concluded triumphantly.

"No, no, I meant about the potion," Harry replied, still thinking. "You reminded me of something, Ron. There was something awfully familiar about it. The potion, I mean."

"Familiar? It was the most awful, smelly, disgusting potion I've ever seen!"

Hermione could almost hear the _click_ in Harry's mind. 

"Exactly," he said, softly.

Harry faced them, and Hermione could see the excitement in his eyes. An excitement normally reserved for a Quidditch challenge, or another wild late-night jaunt with the Invisibility Cloak and Messieurs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. She sighed, inwardly.

"Wolfsbane," Harry said. "Wolfsbane."

"_Lupin_," Ron breathed.

There was a moment of silence.

"How do you know it was Wolfsbane, Harry?" Hermione sounded skeptical; Harry's identification of the potion seemed to be a bit of a leap. Most potions were either awful, smelly, or disgusting, and quite a number were all three. She wasn't above putting two and two together, like she did regarding Snape's ... nocturnal activities, to arrive at a _logical_ conclusion, but this ...

"I've seen it before! Fourth year, I was talking to Professor Lupin, Snape came in with that potion, I'd know it anywhere!"

"Was it really that distinctive?"

"It was vile—an awful smell and color—and it smoked like I remember. Yes, I'm sure it was Wolfsbane."

"Hmm."

"You have to believe me, Hermione! I'm sure of it!" Harry's eyes were bright and fervent. 

"Well, even if we assume that it was Wolfsbane, where does that leave us? Snape bringing Wolfsbane to Dumbledore's office, that's all. It could be for anyone, not just Professor Lupin. Although, true, he's the most likely candidate to be in Dumbledore's office."

"Well? What do we do now?" Ron asked.

"Do? We do nothing," Hermione replied, pushing back her chair. She got up and gathered her books, just as the breakfast materials vanished from the table. The other students around them were also getting ready to leave. "Look, you two," she said, over profound noises of disbelief from the two boys. "We've explained the Death Eater and Winky. We know what Snape's doing now. No sinister motives. And as for the Wolfsbane? There's a reason we don't know about a werewolf, Professor Lupin or not, at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore's keeping it a secret, and we'd better follow suit and stay out of his business. He's playing a deep game, with You Know Wh—sorry, Voldemort. This is no time for amateurs like us to be stumbling around. If you two really want, you can go and speak to Professor Dumbledore privately. But me? I'm going to stay out of this, for my own sake, but more importantly, for Professor Snape's. He does not need us blowing his disguise."

Hermione paused. "Speaking of Professor Snape, though, I'd be just a little nicer to him from here on out." She smiled at the identical looks of incredulity on Harry and Ron's faces. "He's a teacher, after all, and besides that, he's putting himself in a lot of danger. Even if we're not supposed to know about it, we _could_ show a bit of gratitude and make his life easier."

Ron was disgusted. "Oh, 'Mione, you really _are_ a suck-up. This is all about that recommendation, isn't it?"

"It is _not_!" Hermione contested hotly. "Really, Ron, are you familiar at all with the idea of common decency—"

"Okay, okay, we get the point." Ron and Harry both grinned. "Come on, we'll be late for class. Can't have _that_ on the Head Girl's recommendation, can we?"

They made a break for it, as Hermione swatted at them—ineffectually—with her notebook. Snickering, the two boys sped from the hall, while a bushy-haired, book-laden figure ran after them in hot pursuit.

**

The Potions test was nearly impossible. Nearly. 

Hermione handed in her triple-checked paper, satisfied that it was letter-perfect, and thankful for the studying she had done the night before. It was on the third read-through of the textbook that she'd _really_ understood the properties of the Memory Potion, and on the fourth that she'd picked up on the true significance of gillywater in ...

"Thank you, Miss Granger." Snape's acerbic tone cut through her reverie. "Now, if you're quite finished studying my shoulder like a stupefied goldfish, you are welcome to return to your seat."

Hermione flushed and hurried back to her place beside Neville. She saw Ron roll his eyes with a classic "that's Snape for you" expression.

She'd been the last to finish. As she took her seat, Snape stood up from behind his desk and paced to the front of the room. "Thanks to Miss Granger, I may _finally_ begin today's lesson. We will be discussing the properties of that truly remarkable potion, Veritserum, which the majority of you will never understand, let alone brew with any semblance of skill or even competence. However, for the precious few of you with any talent in the delicate art of Potions, Veritserum shall be one of the most intriguing and complex spells you shall ever encounter. Its function is simple: to force the subject to speak, and speak only the truth. Its methodology is also simple, but deceptively so. The process ..." 

**

The last of the students jostled and bumped their way out of the classroom. Snape sighed softly and sat down gratefully in his chair. Why Albus insisted on scheduling Gryffindor-Slytherin Double Potions every year for the past seven? eight years? ... it required all his energy to keep the little brats from hexing each other senseless. Or to keep himself from casting a few judicious curses, here and there.

Snape respected Albus Dumbledore immensely. He was fiercely loyal to the aged wizard, and trusted him with his life.

Occasionally, though, he privately suspected Dumbledore of possessing a singularly perverted sense of humor.

Well, that meant a lot, coming from him.

**

A week later ... 

Hermione felt the cool autumn breeze on her cheek as she leaned back against the rough bark of a young oak tree. It was a glorious sunny afternoon, and the Trio was outside after a long day of classes. Shielding her eyes against the bright sun, she looked up to see Harry and Ron, armed and dangerous with broomsticks and Quaffle. Hermione sighed, then smiled. It'd be a while before the boys would be interested in anything else.

But that was perfectly all right with her. Hermione had never enjoyed flying and the role of Quidditch, in her life, was solely within the domain of House spirit and, hopefully, House points. On an afternoon like this, she was perfectly content to relax under a tree and let her mind wander.

A small, protesting voice in the back of her mind pointed out that exams were closer than she thought, and if she expected Snape to ...

Hermione firmly silenced the voice with a pointed observation that as they were only three weeks into the term, there was no material to study.

Yet.

Snape had spent another class period lecturing on Veritserum. It turned out that the drug functioned very similarly to the Imperio curse. Its effect was not just to force truth, but to force the subject to _speak_, and then speak only the truth. Silence, therefore, was not an option. The Imperio-esque aspect of the spell made obeying a command seem very desirable; Veritserum made the subject _want_ to answer the question. To ensure truth, Veritserum's second effect was to make a lie seem distasteful. The subject would be forced to say the truth, because he or she couldn't bear to lie.

Unlike Imperio, it could not be broken. Imperio was a curse, and it put a magical hold on a person's will. As long as the caster maintained control over the spell, it would bind the subject. However, since it was purely magical in nature, a person with sufficient magical power could overthrow it. 

Veritserum, on the other hand, was a potion. It was both magical and physiological. It seeped into every molecule of the body, and the only way to fight a chemical was to wait for it to dissipate naturally. By that time, of course, one had already spilled one's proverbial guts.

Hermione admitted that it was a very neat spell.

Snape had also returned their Potions tests that morning. All of Hermione's responses had been correct, although she had lost a few points for "neatness". She had fumed a little—no teacher had ever had cause to complain about her handwriting, before.

"_Malfoy_ got top marks. Snape favors the Slytherins, that's what," Ron had grumbled.

"That's nothing new." Hermione then had resolved to deal with the matter philosophically. "Well, there's no use complaining now. I'll just have to make certain to be extra-perfect from now on."

Adhering to a philosophical outlook, however, was much easier said than done.

Other than Potions misadventures, however, Hermione and her friends had not had any other close encounters Professor Snape in the past week. Involvement in Snape's extracurricular activities, especially, had ceased. Harry and Ron had seemingly taken what she'd said to heart, and if they were still curious, they kept such thoughts to themselves. Oh, even Hermione allowed herself to speculate, occasionally, but with Dark activities at all-time lows, now seemed to be best suited for studying rather than engaging in childish escapades. 

And speaking of childish ... Hermione sighed softly, not bothering to suppress a twinge of irritation. Peeves had been up to his usual pranks over the summer, but with a rather inconvenient twist. He had taken into his translucent head the idea that it would be absolutely smashing fun to devastate the Head Girl rooms. Professor McGonagall hadn't been too specific when she had informed Hermione of the situation, so she wasn't certain as to the extent of Peeves's fun and games. However, suffice to say that her dearly earned bit of privacy was currently uninhabitable. 

Temporary dormitory housing wasn't too bad, aside from grumbles regarding Hermione's study patterns, specifically the occasional late nights. However, she longed for a room of her own, if only so that she could avoid Parvati and Lavendar's giggling beauty-and-fashion conferences. The other two girls weren't unfriendly; no, they were quite the opposite, which only made it worse ...

She was drawn out of her reverie by a familiar drawl overhead. "Well, well, if it isn't the famous Harry Potter, out for some much-needed Quidditch practice." The insinuating tone was unmistakable.

"You're one to talk, Malfoy," she heard Ron retort. She looked up to see Ron and Harry, hovering on brooms, facing off with the similarly situated Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, a 7th year Slytherin Chaser. For once, the silver-haired boy was not flanked by the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle. "Shame that no amount of practice will ever be able to help _you_, though."

"You're quite right, Weasley. Natural talent does seem to speak for itself, doesn't it? How unusually perceptive of you to notice it."

"Sod off, Malfoy," was Harry's eloquent reply.

"The feeling's entirely mutual, Potter. Now, I don't have time to waste my afternoon arguing with two children. I'm here for some serious Quidditch, so if you two would please go occupy yourselves elsewhere ..."

"We're staying right here," Ron said, pugnaciously. "You can jolly well find someplace else to lose the Snitch."

"This is a Quaffle, not a Snitch, Weasel," Malfoy replied, coldly and pleasantly, gesturing with the ball in his hand. "I see that your poverty extends to your mental capabilities, as well."

"What would you know, seeing how you don't have any mind to speak of ..."

Blaise Zabini broke in. "Hey, Draco, are we going to play or not? I'm not here to trade insults with Gryffindors all afternoon."

"As tempting as that sounds, neither am I," Malfoy replied. "So, Gryffindors, would you care to bugger off?"

"No way," Harry responded, coolly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. This was impossible. "Look, you four," she said, cutting into the conversation. "The field's big enough for all of you. Malfoy, unless you're grossly incompetent, even one-fourth of this area would be large enough for a one-on-one game."

"Well, Granger, that would normally be the case, but sharing with these two bumpkins would make any field too small."

"Who are you calling bumpkins?" Ron demanded. "We could beat you, anyday!"

"Oh, yes?" Malfoy's eyes glittered. "Care to prove it?"

Harry and Ron traded one glance of complete and aggressive accord.

"You're on," Harry's voice was quiet. "That is, if your teammate feels up to the challenge ... ?"

"A Slytherin," Blaise replied in his low, clear voice, "is always up for the challenge."

Hermione rolled her eyes, although slightly alarmed at the rapid escalation of events. This should prove to be interesting, however. Much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy was a natural flyer, and Zabini was the best Chaser in the school. Harry, of course, was gifted, not only in the position of Seeker, but also in his handling of the Quaffle. Ron, on the other hand, like his twin brothers, was usually a Beater. A two-on-two game with only a Quaffle might not be very good odds for the Gryffindors.

Then again, Hermione doubted that the Slytherins could match Harry and Ron's knowledge of Quiddith theory. She could personally attest to their devotion to strategy, which frequently obscured their devotion to their studies. If the latter devotion existed, in the first place.

Grades, she suspected, was not very high on either of their priority lists. Except, of course, when it came to bugging her for help.

She looked up again and saw that the game had commenced. Someone had conjured Quidditch hoops, although with no Keepers, it was rather easier to score. She saw Harry with the Quaffle, speeding toward the Slytherins' end of the field, when suddenly Malfoy darted around Ron and angled towards him ...

... and Harry cried out sharply, doubling over on his broomstick, which swerved uncontrollably ...

... right into Malfoy's path ...

There was a crash as body hit body and broomsticks collided, and the Quaffle went flying.

Hermione whipped out her wand. "_Wingardium leviosa_!" she shouted, pointing at Harry. His spasming body halted its midair descent, and she saw that he was clutching at his forehead.

"Harry!" Ron was at his friend's side. "Are you all right?"

Hermione slowly let Harry down to the ground and then hurried over. "Yes, what happened, Harry? Is your scar hurting? Oh, Ron, we need to get Madam Pomfrey ..."

"No, no, I'm fine." As he spoke, Harry straightened, his hand moving aside to reveal his scar. His face was pale, in distinct contrast to the dark, ugly red marking his forehead. "Really. Momentary lapse."

Malfoy was circling lazily above them. "What's the matter, Potter? Can't handle the competition?"

"Oh, bugger off, Malfoy," Hermione retorted. "Or, if you really want to be useful, go get Madam Pomfrey. This isn't the time for childish insults."

"No, really, Hermione, I'm fine," Harry objected. "Seriously. It was only for a second or two. It's okay now."

"But doesn't your scar hurt when You-Know-Who is near?" Hermione asked, worried.

"Voldemort, you mean? Sometimes. But it also hurts, I think, when he's planning something nasty. Seeing how he's constantly nasty, I really wonder that I don't suffer from perpetual migraines ..."

"Harry! This is no joking matter. It hurt enough that you lost control of your broom! And what if You-Know-Who is plotting something? We need to warn Professor Dumbledore!"

Harry's face sobered.

"Good." Hermione took his silence for assent and reached out a hand to help him up. "Ron, come on, let's get Harry back to the castle."

"Not so fast." Draco Malfoy came to hover in the air before them. "I would like my Quaffle back, if you please."

"Oh, come on—" Hermione burst out, indignantly. "This is more important than some ..."

Malfoy ignored her while flicking his gaze across Harry's rumpled figure. "Oh, dear me, it seems like you have misplaced it. How very careless of you."

"Harry couldn't help it, and you know it!" Hermione said sharply.

"Yeah!" Ron agreed fiercely.

Malfoy was oblivious to their words. "That Quaffle was made from the finest materials, imported from Switzerland," he continued. "I suppose I shall bill you for a replacement, Potter?"

Hermione could hardly believe that anyone would be dickering over a stupid bit of red leather at a time like this. Of course, anyone meant anyone besides Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, fine," Harry said shortly. "I'll go get it for you." 

"Harry!"

"He'll just keep mouthing off if I don't. Besides, I _did_ lose it. Fair's fair." Harry broke off and scanned the area around him. "Ron? Did you see where the Quaffle went?"

"Um."

"Come on, Ron," Harry said. The Quaffle was nowhere in sight. "Just tell me, I'll go get it, and then we'll go back to the castle."

"Ron, don't you dare," Hermione said dangerously. "We're going back to the castle this instant."

"It'll only take a minute, Hermione. Ron, did it get stuck in the tree or something?"

"Well, uh, you're right on about the trees, Harry. But I really don't think we ought to, er, go get it."

Harry sighed. "Really. It'll only take a minute. What's the big deal? Just tell me where it is."

Blaise Zabini had glided in to hover alongside Malfoy. "Are you looking for the Quaffle, Potter?"

"Yeah, do you have it?" Harry looked up at the pair of blond Slytherins.

"No, and I doubt anyone will, ever again, unless you count the centaurs."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"It means, you dolt," said Malfoy acidly, "that you have managed to lose my property to the Forbidden Forest. Congratulations on formally achieving bumpkin status."

"Oh, shove it," Harry growled. "I said I'd go get it for you, and I will. Spare me the rest."

"Harry!" Hermione wasn't sure if she was angry or afraid. Probably a combination of the two. "You mustn't go into the Forbidden Forest, especially not over a stupid Quaffle! Are you out of your mind?"

"Look, Hermione," Harry turned to her, exasperated. "It'll really only take a minute. If I don't get Malfoy back his precious Quaffle, I'll never hear the end of it."

"That's a small price to pay," she retorted. "Need I remind you that the Forest is home to all sorts of dangerous creatures, including, at the very least, a group of homicidal giant spiders?"

"Hey! They came through when needed," Ron put in, uncomfortably aware that he was defending Aragog and his merry gang.

"Not to mention that Dumbledore told you specifically not to go back!" Hermione went on, ignoring Ron's unhelpful comment.

"It's okay! Really! The sooner I go, the sooner I get back, and the sooner we all go back to the castle." Harry got back on his broomstick. "Really."

"Are you serious? Damn, you are." Ron followed suit, and soon the two boys were hovering in the air. "Sorry, Herm, but hey, I'll go along and make sure Harry doesn't fall over in a faint again."

"And how would you prevent it?" Hermione asked scornfully, but she knew when it was hopeless. The two of them were overly endowed with stubbornness, sometimes, she thought, at the expense of common sense. "Really, Ron, I don't know what's gotten into you. Fine, you two. Go on. Just be back in exactly five minutes, or I'm really going to get Professor Dumbledore out after you. And I'll take points from Gryffindor, see if I don't."

"Right, fine, five minutes!"

And Hermione was left watching the two of them fly away as she stood, very uncomfortably, in the presence of two rather unsavory Slytherins.

She lasted two minutes before going in after them. 

"Damn those two," she muttered under her breath as she brushed a twig aside. Her eyes scanned the undergrowth of any sign of red. The sound of her steps crackling on dried twigs and last year's dead leaves was unnaturally loud. "_Lumos_," she whispered and was rewarded by a globe of light on her wand tip that illuminated the murky shadows in the strangely quiet forest. 

"Harry? Ron?" she called into the stillness. "Where are you? Have you found it?"

No answer.

Hermione was not normally a jumpy person, but she couldn't resist casting a quick, apprehensive glance behind her. Of course, there wasn't anything to be afraid of; there rarely was, in these situations. Silently, she chided herself for being so nervous. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she murmured, firmly putting all thoughts of man-eating spiders aside. 

Suddenly, she caught a flash of silver on the edge of her vision. She spun, wand at the ready, a half-dozen curses on her lips.

__

Do not be afraid, said a softly chiming voice. _I wish you no harm._

It was a unicorn.

Hermione gasped audibly. In all her readings, she had never before heard of a unicorn voluntarily seeking a human. Unicorns were supposedly some of the most elusive of creatures and could only be coaxed out of hiding by beautiful virgins, pure in heart.

Well, apparently not.

Getting over her astonishment, Hermione replied, "I'm sorry. You just startled me, that's all."

__

My apologies. I do not often have dealings with your kind.

Hermione smiled slightly. Well, at least part of what she'd read was correct. "No apologies necessary. It was unintentional. Do you wish to speak to me?"   
  
The unicorn dipped its beautiful horned head in acknowledgment. Its flawless silver body radiated a faint glow that reminded Hermione of moonlight and swirling nighttime mist. _Yes. We have been awaiting you, Hermione Granger. There is a great evil abroad in the world, and each day its shadow looms closer to you and all you hold dear. What you have encountered before was only the faintest touch of its malignant presence. Your valiant companion Harry Potter has already faced part of this evil, and you shall need him as well as everything and everyone around you in the battle to come. We have come to warn you and to advise you. Seek out the dragon, for in your hands it can be used for great good. If you cannot control it, it will bring about evil and suffering beyond imagining. Consider our words, Hermione Granger, and we wish you well. _  
  
With those words, the unicorn melted into the darkness.   
  
Hermione let out a long, shaky breath. She hated Divination and anything that smacked of mysticism, but this prophecy, delivered through the bell-like tones of a unicorn, seemed a step up from Trelawney's fraudulent mutterings. Quite a sizable step up.   
  
And then, she heard it. A faint rustling in the brush, and the sound of suppressed breathing. She whirled and pointed her wand, just as a blur of black robes burst out of the bushes. 

**

**Author's Note:** Snape's description of Hermione as a "braniac" is from Telanu's delightful "Tea" series. I agree that it's a rather accurate appraisal of Hermione's character.   
  
Please comment/review! I'm not a very experienced writer, and I would appreciate all feedback. My email address is sigmapibond@yahoo.com. Thank you for reading!

  



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